


Highest Treason

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Carlos is determined to give Cecil a proper birthday, Fluff, M/M, the secret police ship it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: It's Cecil's birthday and Carlos wants to celebrate, but Carlos is unaware that birthday celebrations are forbidden. Cecil goes nuts trying to hide all the banners and candles and balloons before the secret police see. (The secret police totally know, and also ship it, but Cecil doesn't know this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highest Treason

It had taken Carlos a year to force Cecil to reveal the date of his birth. An entire year- a perfectly good opportunity ruined by Cecil’s sheer stubbornness- that Carlos had spent badgering him. He’d questioned Cecil at least once everyday and Cecil had eventually given in, though admittedly Carlos had rather taken advantage of a naked and desperate Cecil. As it happened, Cecil’s birthday was only a day away. Well, what constituted as a birthday for Cecil. Carlos could never really be sure that they were working from the same definition of a birthday. 

Carlos had grown up in a household where birthdays were more important than Christmas (which, as it happened, was a ceremony held in the middle of the summer in Night Vale and included three sacrificed green-tinted rabbits). That was, he claimed, the reason that he was so obsessed with Cecil’s birthday. Cecil naturally couldn’t understand the excitement. 

Thankfully on the afternoon before the date Cecil had given a show was being recorded and Cecil was engaged in telling Night Vale all that they needed to know, and what they needed to un-know. He had no idea that Carlos was off on a little road trip to the nearest sane town available and that Carlos was planning on giving Cecil the biggest and best birthday he’d ever had. 

The best store he could come across was a dingy little convenience store with sun-bleached merchandise in the front window and a man behind the counter so very round that Carlos was fairly certain the man was pinned there. He searched the shelves for something appropriate, noting that he had very little time before Cecil would start with the weather. He stumbled, quite literally, across a box of party decorations. There were banners, balloons, party poppers, hats, and a nice roll of wrapping paper. Carlos searched through it, grinning in childish delight, before grabbing the entire box and taking it to the counter. 

“All of this, please,” he requested, before absently grabbing some gum and adding it to the top of the box, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

The man behind the counter looked at the box, up to Carlos, and then back at the box. “You think I’m gonna scan all this?” he grunted. 

“Please.”

“Give me a twenty and never come her again,” the man compromised, “And you’ll be getting it about six dollars cheaper than it should be.” 

Carlos shrugged, “Fair deal,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of notes- along with an inexplicable scallop which he quickly re-pocketed. Having paid, Carlos took the box and headed back to his car, stowing it carefully in the trunk. 

The entire trip had gone perfectly until Carlos was crossing the boarder back into Night Vale. Of course it had gone too well. He couldn’t not be stopped by the Sherif’s Secret Police on the way back. Things just didn’t work that neatly. 

He nearly ran the car off the road when the floodlights were shone in his face, and Carlos stopped the car somewhere in the middle of the highway. Within seconds the lights were gone and Carlos was blinking against the spots they’d left behind his eyes. By the time he’d cleared his vision there was a member of the Sherif’s Secret Police in his passenger seat wearing his cap to the side and another leaning in the open window, fiddling with her hair. 

“Carlos,” they crowed in unison. Carlos blinked. 

“We’ve had reports of you buying birthday decorations,” the man grinned, patting Carlos’ leg. Carlos flinched. His previous encounters with the Sherif’s Secret Police had involved some minor torture and certainly not smiles on anyone’s faces. 

“Uh-” Carlos frowned, trying to gauge the situation- “yes, it’s Cecil’s birthday tomorrow. I thought I might surprise him.”

“Oh, you’re gonna surprise him alright,” the woman chuckled, and that only served to unnerve Carlos further. 

“That’s the plan, yes,” he nodded. 

They grinned at him for a while longer and Carlos forced himself not to squirm. After what seems like far too long, the man cleared his throat. “Well, Carlos. Keep our Cecil happy, won’t you, friend? Everyone on the team is pretty invested in you two.” And they were gone. 

Thankfully the rest of the night passed with no more unscheduled strangeness. Cecil arrived at Carlos’ place after his show with no knowledge that Carlos had done anything but clean the kitchen a little. They cuddled for a while, chatted about Cecil’s near-encounter with one of Old Woman Josie’s angels who’d escaped, and attempted to make dinner, but ended up having a minor argument. That naturally ended with an interesting half-hour of experimental kitchen sex and Cecil staying the night on top of Carlos on the sofa. 

The next morning Carlos awoke to the sight of Cecil dressing which was an extremely disappointing sight to wake up to. He groaned and Cecil turned to beam at him. Morning people were nothing in comparison to Cecil. 

“Ah, good morning, my beautiful perfect Carlos,” Cecil chuckled, buttoning his shirt.

“Do you really have to leave already? We haven’t even had breakfast,” Carlos replied with little more that a grunt. It was too early for Cecil to be that gorgeous. Too early for Cecil to be that ridiculously happy. 

Cecil nodded, “I’m afraid so. Station Management want me to meet a new intern. I’ll make you breakfast tonight?” Cecil offered, pulling his sweater on. Carlos grinned at his logic. 

“If you want to,” Carlos smiled, “I’ll come to yours after your show?” 

Cecil’s grin widened to display his teeth and Carlos knew that he was on to a winner. Cecil had no idea that Carlos was planning something. “I’d be honored, my lovely Carlos,” Cecil replied, coming over and giving Carlos a quick kiss goodbye. 

As soon as Cecil had gone, Carlos sprang into action. He showered, dressed, and drove to Cecil’s place, taking his box of birthday goods and another box up to Cecil’s front door. Thankfully, the garden gnome outside unlocked it for him and Carlos was able to get inside with no real issues other than a particularly stubborn light switch. 

Carlos wasn’t exactly an expert at baking cakes and was working with what could only be described as unconventional ingredients. Once the hissing and spitting had passed, the gloop he’d created vaguely resembled cake batter, and he shoved it in the oven with the singular hope that it would cease to bubble angrily in his general direction. 

Cleaned and tidied, Carlos set about making the flat look ridiculous. The banners were spread across every surface he could, the balloons- which made him momentarily dizzy- were scattered about the floor, and Carlos had set up a small device to release all of the party poppers in one go aimed at the door. He donned a hat, took the cake from the oven, and set it in the box, which he wrapped. 

And then, he waited. 

Cecil returned to his flat only a couple of hours after Carlos had finished setting things up. Carlos heard the car pull up and hid behind the sofa, absolutely giddy with excitement. He bit his fist as Cecil opened the door and the party poppers went off. 

“Surprise!” Carlos yelled, jumping up from his hiding place, “Happy birthday Cecil!” 

Cecil’s face was white as death. Carlos swallowed awkwardly. “I- um... I thought I’d surprise you?” 

Cecil slammed the door behind him, scrambling to scoop up the coloured strings and balloons scattered around the floor. “Carlos, dear perfect Carlos you’re so very sweet,” Cecil muttered as he moved, “But so very ill-informed. Celebrations of birthdays are considered some of the highest treason and we- we need to remove any evidence of the-”

Before even Carlos could comment, a loud crackle came from Cecil’s lamp and a somewhat familiar voice filled the room. “Mr Baldwin, the Sherif’s Secret Police have come to a... compromise about this situation. There will be no punishment for this celebration as long as your companion’s feelings are not hurt. Good evening!” Another crackle, and Carlos turned slowly back to Cecil, who was frozen where he stood. 

“I- uh,” Carlos smiled a little, “I made a cake.” 

Cecil slowly stood back up, arms full of balloons, draped in coloured string, and blinked at Carlos. “A cake?” 

“To celebrate.”

“Oh, my lovely, sweet Carlos,” Cecil allowed the balloons to drop out of his arms and waded across the room, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist, “Darling, you did this for me?” 

Carlos smiled, “It’s your birthday, Cecil, I couldn’t very well allow you to go another year without a celebration!”

“Even though it’s illegal?” 

“I didn’t know that,” Carlos admitted, but nodded, “It’s important to celebrate at least one birthday.” 

“This is... so very naughty of you,” Cecil chuckled, leaning in and kissing Carlos softly. 

Carlos grinned into the kiss before pulling back a little, “We’re not even at the best bit, yet.” 

“Oh?”

Carlos’ grin shifted to a smirk and he slid a hand down to Cecil’s arse, “There’s a big tradition where I’m from, Cecil, to have birthday sex.” 

Cecil flushed, “I think we’ll have to celebrate birthdays more often,” he murmured, leaning in again and nibbling lightly at Carlos’ jaw. They both studiously ignored the round of applause coming from the lamp.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not particularly far into WTNV, I must confess, so I apologise if my depiction of the Sherif's Secret Police is piss-poor


End file.
